


Crazy Little Thing

by Dr_D_Fox



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, Because of Reasons, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Lyrium Addiction, Lyrium Withdrawal, Mage, Magic, Modern Girl in Thedas, Modern Music in Thedas, Music Speaks to Everyone, Non-Inquisitor Main Character, Not Self-Insert, Sorry Not Sorry, This Does Not End Well, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2018-10-26 03:18:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10778421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_D_Fox/pseuds/Dr_D_Fox
Summary: No one is sure where she came from, but Cullen is sure of one thing- he can't get her songs out of his head.





	1. Swings and Jives

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for joining me in this ridiculous little music fic! All other ANs will be at the end of the chapter, but the songs referenced in the chapter will be at the beginning. Chapter length will vary and updates will be sporadic. Sorry! Enjoy, and don't forget to review or at least drop a kudo to let me know you are enjoying it!
> 
> Song:  
> Queen- Crazy Little Thing Called Love

The first time he saw her, she was in the scullery, scrubbing at a pile of dishes taller than she was. Cullen had been looking for the rather intimidating woman that was in charge of the kitchen staff to determine if they needed to hire more hands to aid the increasing population of Haven. Instead, he found a strange woman singing an even stranger song. He paused in the doorway, his hand poised to knock. Her voice wasn’t as beautiful as the Chantry Mothers’ Choir, but it held such enthusiasm and bottomless passion that, despite the strange lyrics, he couldn’t help but listen. She danced as she sang, her bare feet shuffling along the dirt floor and her hips rocking back and forth to the music in her head.

“ _There goes my ba-a-by!_

_He knows how to rock and roll!_

_He drives me cra-a-zy!_

_He gives me hot cold fever-_

_He leaves me in a cool cool sweat.”_

Her hands flew, one with a scrubber, one with a ladle, through a complex rhythmic thumping along the big pots before her, before she started on the next verse. It was only while she was doing that, eyes closed, that he saw the strange strings coming out of her ears and the odd glowing object strapped to her arm. It took him a moment, but he recognized it as the strange music box that had been found on her.

Ah. This was the mystery girl then?

_“I gotta be cool._

_Relax._

_Get hip_

_Get on my track's!_

_Take a back seat,_

_Hitch-hike_

_Take a long ride on my motor bike._

_Until I'm ready-_

_Crazy little thing called love!”_

It was mesmerizing to watch her, and now, when she paused in the music to do another drumming feat, he could just hear the music coming from her strange device. He remembered Leliana discussing the girl, her mysterious appearance, her strange magics, showing them the odd but harmless devices that had been on her person, and- wait, wasn’t she supposed to speak only some strange language? Yet here she was, belting out the lyrics to her odd song as clear as day! Was she faking it? Maybe she was… different? There had been people in the Chantry who never could speak well enough to make them understood, but they could sing, or say the Chant. Was she like that? No, Leliana had said the girl had managed to communicate well with them, despite the language barrier. Perhaps she learned this song somewhere?

“ _This thing,_

_Called love,_

_It cries,_

_In a cradle all night._

_It swings._

_It jives._

_It shakes all over like a jelly fish!_

_I kinda like it!_

_Crazy little thing called love.”_

He discounted that last idea quickly. No, she sung this song like it was her native tongue. Before he could interrupt her though and demand to know why she was hiding her understanding of their words, he was interrupted by a sharp bark of a laugh from behind him. Trying not to appear startled, he turned partially to see who it was, and was confronted by a portly man he recognized as one of the tavern workers.

The man laughed again, his arms full of more dishes, nodding his head towards the girl, “Noisy li’l thing, ain’ she? Grea’ voice, jus’ nonsense words, eh? Too bad, really.”

Nonsense words? Sure, some of it was a little odd, but it wasn’t nonsense. Cullen watched as the man set the pile down and tapped the girl’s shoulder. She didn’t startle, just pulled on of the strings out of her ear, nodded and smiled as he gestured to the pile, then went back to bouncing around, though without the singing this time, as the man left. Her right hand waved over the pile of dishes she’d just rinsed and stacked, and with a brief glow to her fingers, the dishes dried.

A mage. He almost cringed at the display of her magic. The spymaster had mentioned that, and had placed her under the tutelage of the apostate elf to control learn to control what, apparently, had shocked the young woman at its first display. Well, Cullen would just have to drop in on the elf and see how things were going. They would have to arrange for language lessons with the Chantry as well. The Herald had recently recruited Mother Giselle and a number of Chantry sisters to the Inquisition. Perhaps one of them would be willing to take the stranger under their wing.

He watched for a moment longer as she moved another stack of dishes into the washing bin, her voice coming back now she thought she was alone. As her hips swayed and her feet bounced, he felt a determination to find out more about this stranger in their midst. Once he found the woman in charge of the staff, he’d see what else they’d learned about this creature.

_“I gotta be cool._

_Relax._

_Get hip_

_Get on my track's!_

_Take a back seat, hitch-hike_

_And take a long ride on my motor bike._

_Until I'm ready-_

_Crazy little thing called love!”_


	2. A Face in the Crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Greenday- Minority

Cullen hadn’t much of a chance to ask after the young mage, the new recruits and regular meetings with the War Council taking up much of his time- or at least, what wasn’t already taken up by paperwork, letter writing, evaluations of supplies and equipment, and more paperwork. He had managed to ask after her with the head of staff, finding out that she was an industrious worker, if a little odd, and took whatever task they gave her with little complaint. Leliana and Cassandra gave him a brief background on her- found at the Crossroads before the Conclave, drew the symbol for the Inquisition before anyone outside of their soldiers even knew it was forming, spent a few weeks in custody while they questioned her and examined her possessions, then gave up when the Temple exploded and allowed her to work in the kitchen. Oddly, not the strangest way someone had joined them, and she’d fairly quickly been forgotten after the Herald joined and the Inquisition itself got truly underway.

If he was disappointed with that tiny bit of information, he was even more disappointed with the report Solas wrote. The woman was obviously new to her powers, but learning well. He had started teaching her practical magics, such as the drying spell the Commander had seen her use, and other hearth spells. They had recently moved to defensive spells, at her insistence, and she had been given a staff to start practicing with. Solas reassured the Commander that there was no indication of demonic possession and no reason to suspect that it might occur anytime soon. That was it. No discussion about her origins, her behavior, nothing to glean except what was written. Damn that apostate!

Cullen had finally broken down and asked Mother Giselle about the language lessons. The woman tutted at him and said that the girl was smart enough, but at her age it would be very difficult for her to learn a new language quickly, especially when her native tongue differed so drastically from the Trade Tongue. He didn’t dare ask any further, especially when the Mother seemed content to leave it at that.

A chance walk around Haven was the only reason he happened to see her again. The Lake that was perched at Haven’s feet wasn’t very large, and the area was so well hunted and marched that even a child could walk in relative safety, as long as they stayed bundled against the oncoming winter cold. Cullen had taken to walking its shore at least once every few days, as a chance to clear his head and get away from the headache that days of hard work and nights of little sleep tended to produce. On this particular walk, he was about halfway around when he heard her. Slowing his pace, he wove between the rocky outcroppings and the thick trees to where her voice was coming from, finally spotting her in a small clearing.

Staff whirling (albeit with only rough skill), and magic flashing, she appeared to be practicing some of those defensive, and some _offensive_ magics that Solas said he’d taught her. Despite the snow, she was stripped down to an undershirt and leather breeches, drenched in sweat from, if the kicked up mud and snow were any indication, what could have been a few hours of practice. Once again, her little music box was strapped to her arm, and the strings that produced the sound were in her ears. The soldier in him wanted to admonish her for not listening to her surroundings, but as he listened to what she was singing (nearly screaming, if he was going to be honest), he understood that the music was acting as a catharsis to something deeper right now.

_“A face in the crowd,_

_Unsung, against the mold._

_Without a doubt,_

_Singled out,_

_The only way I know!_

_'Cause I want to be the minority!_

_I don't need your authority!_

_Down with the moral majority!_

_'Cause I want to be the minority!”_

Her flourishes and flashing spells came in time to the music, her footing firm but lacking the grace seen in a practiced mage. It was actually rather impressive, for someone who had so recently come into power. That brought up the question, was Solas an accomplished teacher, or was this girl an accomplished mage? So busy was he watching her and pondering his questions, that he didn’t notice her startle when she finally saw him until she stumbled and landed with an ‘oof!’ in the snow behind her.

“Oh! I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to surprise you!” He scrambled forward to help her up, nearly slipping on the ice that had sent her tumbling. She rattled off something in that strange language, blushing deeply as he helped her to her feet. “Are you alright? I do apologize. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone out here.”

She waved off his concerns, understanding enough of what he said to give him a shy, reassuring smile. This was the first time he had seen her face to face like this, and he felt color rise in his own cheeks, mirroring hers. A lopsided grin snuck onto his lips, and he took a few steps backwards once he was sure she wasn’t going to slip again. Dusting off her breeches, though it was mostly snow and mud, she laughed and said something else, avoiding eye contact. Feeling uncertain, he gave her a little tip of his head, “I’ll, ah, leave you to your practice then. Good day.”

As he walked past her, she called out for him, “Cullen?” He paused, turning in surprise, “Thank you.” Her words were heavily accented, but he smiled in return before she scuttled off, back the way he had come. It seemed that the language lessons were coming along after all!

It wasn’t until he was another quarter around the lake that a little voice that had been niggling in the back of his mind finally made it to the surface. When had she learned his name?


	3. A Cry at Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Hallelujah- Any version, but I like Pentatonix

 “Commander Cullen!” Cassandra’s voice pulled him from the stack of reports he was going over. She sounded flustered and Cullen only hoped it wasn’t anything so urgent that it would delay the Herald and the Templars departing for the Breach in an hour.

“Yes, Seeker?” He tried to keep his tone even, but he sounded tired and worried even to his own ears.

“Have you seen her?” The Seeker was looking around, her brow furrowed and her hand resting on her sword pommel.

“You’ll have to be a little more specific, Cassandra.” Seen who?

The woman huffed, rolling her eyes and glaring at him as if he should have known, “The woman! The damned woman!”

“That’s very helpful.” He deadpanned, wondering if the Seeker had finally cracked under the strain of the Inquisition. Immediately he rebuffed that thought, shamed that he could belittle someone who was helping _him_ keep from cracking.

“Ugh! _Lenora!_ She went this way, but I lost her! We _must_ find her!”

Now his curiosity was peaked and he tipped his head. Lenora? The strange singer? “I’m afraid I haven’t seen her. Has she done something wrong?”

Cassandra’s scowl deepened, “We don’t know. She came running to the Chantry when we were gathering the Templars, panicked and babbling. Something about an attack, and she kept pointing to the Templars!”

Standing, he took a few hurried steps around his desk, “Did one of them hurt her?” She was a mage, but they had allied with the Templars (thank the Maker!) and the soldiers knew to leave the Inquisition mages alone! If she was hurt-

“No, I don’t think that was it. Leliana tried to make sense of what she was saying, but when one of the Templars tried to escort her to the office, she… panicked.”

When a mage panicked, bad things tended to happen. He felt the color drain from his face, “Maker… Was anyone hurt?”

Cassandra waved him off, “No, just a little… shocked. None of them thought to use their Templar abilities until she had already darted out the door. I was hoping that since you had taken an interest in her, and she seems to watch you, maybe she’d come to you.” The last was said carefully, and only served to confuse Cullen more.

“I- I don’t know what you mean. I will take over looking for her, though. We cannot delay the Breach any longer. The Herald has a job to do, and by Andreste, we will have it done tonight.”

Eyeing him for a moment, the Seeker finally nodded, “Thank you, Cullen. We will leave shortly. I’ll have a runner head back once it is done, though I hope that you will know before then.” They both left the tent, but she turned around a few feet away, “And Cullen!” he stopped, looking to her, “Be careful. We still do not know why she is here, but Leliana has not had the resources to dig further.” He nodded, and she seemed satisfied with that.

Lenora. While he had seen her here and there in the last few weeks, he hadn’t been able to say more than a short greeting to her. Mother Giselle had passed the lessons on to one of the Sisters, but he didn’t know how well it was going, or even how often. Solas had likewise passed off most of her training to one of the Inquisition mages, having spent of his time with the Herald. No one had thought to continue reports on her progress, and he wondered if that oversight would mean danger now. He hadn’t told anyone about, somehow, understanding her singing. As far as he gathered, it sounded like the same babble to everyone else that her spoken language did. Had they not been so busy with the Breach, he might have been more worried about it. As it was, only now did he berate himself for not asking Cassandra, or anyone, and not keeping a closer eye on the mage himself.

Worry and fear warred in his head as he scoured the mostly empty docks at the edge of the lake. He had learned that they were a frequent haunt of hers. No such luck, this time. Getting frustrated, he started to head up towards Haven proper, when he noticed a set of small footprints in the snow- leading up the road towards the old apothecary. Maybe…? Having no other lead, he follows the trail up the winding road and through the start of the forest, to the abandoned cabin.

Once again, he hears her before he sees her. This is no upbeat tune. No jaunty little thing that she bounces around to. Instead, it is a song that pulls at him, on some deeper level.

_“Well I heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played and it pleased the Lord_

_But you don't really care for music, do you?”_

He steps off the road and onto the path, spotting her quickly. She’s perched at the base of a rocky outcropping, a thick bundle of Elfroot at her feet, a heavy traveling cloak on her shoulders, and a small pack slung over one shoulder. There is no music box this time, only her voice, pure and sorrowful, ringing off the hills that shelter her.

_“Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth_

_The minor fall and the major lift_

_The baffled king composing Hallelujah.”_

Purpose in mind, he does not pause to listen, but walks slowly towards her. At the crunch of snow, she opens her eyes, but does not stop singing. Her voice is haunting, rising and falling with each hallelujah that falls from her lips.

“ _Your faith was strong but you needed proof_

_You saw her bathing on the roof_

_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you_

_She tied you to her kitchen chair_

_She broke your throne and she cut your hair_

_And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah!”_

Every word sinks into him, and his eyes slide closed as they wash over him. The lyrics were powerful, but the conviction in her voice is what pierced him. No longer did he fear that she might be causing problems. No fears found him at all, and for a brief time, the demons that still raged in his mind were blessedly silent- quelled by her voice.

_“Baby I've been here before_

_I've seen this room and I've walked this floor (you know)_

_I used to live alone before I knew you_

_And I've seen your flag on the marble arch_

_And love is not a victory march_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah…”_

The music faltered, and he glanced up at her sharply, closing the distance between them and crouching before her, “Please don’t stop…” She studied him for a moment, dark eyes searching his, before a sad smile graces her pale lips, and she begins again.

“ _There was a time when you let me know_

_What's really going on below_

_But now you never show that to me, do you?_

_But remember when I moved in you_

_And the holy dove was moving too_

_And every breath we drew was Hallelujah!”_

If the Herald was blessed by Andreste, this woman was one of the Maker’s own choir. Her voice was so strong, so passionate, that even if he didn’t understand all of the words, he understood the song. He understood the pain and fear and hope that they conveyed. Fear, cold, pain, all banished with such a simple voice.

_“Maybe there's a God above_

_All I've ever learned from love_

_Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you_

_And it's not a cry that you hear at night_

_It's not somebody who's seen the light_

_It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah!”_

The last few hallelujah’s tapered off, until silence rang where her voice had given the air life only moments before. No rush of demonic hissing came when she was done. No need to immerse himself in work just to hide from his past. Nothing but peace. “Thank you.” He didn’t even realize he’d whispered that out loud, but the watery chuckle that comes from the singer rouses him and he looks up at the tears running down her face, knowing that the song was as much for him as it had been for her. Standing slowly, as if he might startle her, he offers her a hand. She takes it gratefully, stooping to pick up the herb bundle and shifting the pack more carefully onto her shoulder. That tiny gesture reminds him of his purpose, and he frowns at the bundle, “Are you leaving?”

Her face shifts as she tries to understand him, sorting through the words carefully before she responds softly, “Yes. All leaving.”

He tips his head, “All?”

Lenora points to him, to herself, to Haven, then makes a gesture with her hand to indicate movement, “All.”

Shaking his head, he rubs the back of his neck, “I don’t understand. Why would we all leave?”

Sighing, apparently resigned to some unknown fate, she points down the main road that leads into Haven, “Attack. Templars. Army.”

Something in him reals, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand, “Our Templars? Our army?”

She shakes her head, and fear springs into his throat as realization hits, “An enemy army.” Lenora nods slowly, repeating the word carefully, “Enemy.” Sighing again, she runs her hands through her loose hair, speaking in her native tongue. He can’t understand any of it, but her body language, and what she’s said so far, sparks anger in him.

He steps forward, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake, “What army? Who is attacking? Why? Are you a spy for them?” the fear that the song had dissipated is back in full force- and then some. Had they let a spy into their midst? Was she here to somehow destroy the Inquisition? Maker! She’d been among them for two months! What sort of things could she have learned!

The mage doesn’t resist, going a little limp in his grasp. A hiccupping sob and a few soft spoken words in that strange tongue, and he finds himself relaxing his grip. She lifts a finger to her chest, then points to her eye, then her head while she closes her eyes. Cullen struggles to try to understand. She sees? What? Sees in her mind? No. Sleep. She saw it in her sleep. “A nightmare?” She furrows her brow, shaking it slowly that she didn’t understand the word. He tries to speak more simply, “Bad dream?”

Another sigh, and a slow shake of her head. “Tomorrow.”

Andreste this was hard! How anyone learned another language was beyond him. “Tomorrow. You dream about tomorrow? You… Maker. You see the future?”

The fear and understanding in his face and voice must convey the meaning to her, and she nods slowly, biting her lip. “I see tomorrow. I see the future.” The words are slow and meticulously said, but somehow, that just makes the foreboding worse.

He doesn’t wait for anything else. Grabbing her hand, he drags her with him down the road, running and shouting for his men as he goes, “To arms! To arms! Enemies approach! To arms!”

The bell in Haven rings.

When the runners report that only one scout, running for his life, could be found, Cullen listens to the news of the approaching enemy with a sudden sense of finality. If she hadn’t warned them…

No time to dwell on it right now, he begins barking orders. He sees the girl trying to help get people into Haven’s gates, and he can hear her shouting “Chantry!” at them. It is a safe building, of the ones they have. When this is over, if they survive, a lot of people will have more than the Herald of Andreste to thank. Even as he shouted orders, a thunder wave shook the town and everyone paused to watch the Breach flash and close. Everyone except Lenora, who’s lips were set in a determined line as she helped lead the horses into the walls.

The lyrics from the song she was singing earlier dance through his head, giving strength to his words and a will to make it long enough to hear her sing again.

_“Your faith was strong but you needed proof._

_Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah!_

_Hallelujah..”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! Yay! This is to make up for probably not posting another chapter until Thursday or Friday... Enjoy!


	4. Going to Get Along

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song:  
> Another One Bites the Dust- Queen

By the time the Herald and the Templars have arrived, Haven is already prepared for the arrival of the enemy. The returning soldiers are updated as needed, and a plan is put into place to bury the army as it comes through the mountain pass. Cullen stands at the hub of activity, barking orders and modifying an attack plan as new information comes in when Lenora pulls Chancellor Roderick up to him, babbling frantically to the obviously annoyed cleric.

“Commander, I demand that you get this woman off of me and locked up! She’s been harassing me for ten minutes now, and I can’t understand a single word out of her demonic mouth!”

Cullen ignores the Chancellor, turning his full attention to the young mage, “I’m willing to listen Lenora, but the Chancellor? Is he really necessary?” He can’t keep the distaste out of his voice and, if the disgusted noise the old fob makes is any indication, the cleric shares just as much dislike for the commander.

The young woman nods frantically, struggling with the small vocabulary she has accrued, “Leave! Roderick sees! All leave!”

Andreste preserve him, when this was done he would see to it that she had proper lessons so they didn’t have to go through this guessing game. “Roderick sees… us leave?” The Chancellor made another disparaging noise and tried to pull away, but the mage had a tight grip on his robes. She nods sharply, making a ‘keep going’ motion with her hands. Taking a deep breath, Cullen racks his brain for anything, “Sees us leave Haven?” Another nod. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“I think what the frantic young lady is saying is something along the lines of the cleric knows how to escape Haven.” A refined, _Tevinter_ accent cuts in. Cullen’s hand goes straight to his sword but before he can react, the young mage gasps.

Lenora turns with wide eyes and, _actually_ , squeals. “Dorian!” Releasing the Chancellor she throws her arms around the strange Tevinter.

That tiny voice that had been niggling in the back of Cullen’s mind about whether they can trust her or not promptly becomes a screaming demon. Through gritted teeth he manages to speak, “Lenora. Who is this man? How do you know him?”

Dorian, carefully plucking the arms from around his neck, shakes his head, “As much as I adore a fan, I don’t know this woman. _I_ came here to warn you, fashionably late, I’m afraid.”

The Herald and a scout trot up, both panting a little, though the scout speaks “I’m sorry Commander, I was escorting this man up when we were attacked. He said it was urgent.” Cullen waved the scout off, forcing himself to relax a little. The Herald takes up beside him, confusion written in posture alone.

“Who are you, then?” he growls.

Lenora has stepped back, pinning the escaping Chancellor with a glare before beaming at the Tevinter. The man looks a little off put by it, but seems to roll with it. “My name is Dorian Pavus- and I bring grave news from Redcliffe.” _More bad news? What now?_ “An army of rebel mages, right behind me.”

“Mages? Apostates don’t have an army.” A sick feeling is growing in Cullen’s stomach.

“They are under the command of the Venatori, in the service of something called the ‘Elder One.’” The Tevinter turns, pointing them all to where the enemy army can be seen cresting one of the hills. Cullen strains his eyes, focusing on three people- well, two people and a…Thing. “The woman is Calpernia- she commands the Venatori. I do not know the man. And _that_ is the Elder One.”

Something seems familiar about- “I know that man…”

“ _Samson_.” Lenora’s voice breaks through his thoughts. There’s a sudden shock of recognition and his head snaps to the mage, eyes wide. She’s staring, no- _glaring_ , at the trio on the hill.

Dorian shrugs, “I don’t really care who he is. They were already marching on Haven when I found out. I risked my _life_ to get here first. I am pleased to see that you had warning before me, but I don’t know how much good it will do you.” Even as he speaks, the Commander can see that they had poorly estimated the incoming numbers. Still, the trebuchets should work…

The Herald takes the center stage, “Cullen, give me a plan. Anything.”

“We will stick with the original plan. Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand anything, we _must_ control the battle. The trebuchets should still make an impact. We should double the guard though, and prepare to evacuate if needed.”

He’d nearly forgotten about the mage until she dragged a protesting Roderick back into the frame, “He sees!”

Before Cullen can speak, the Herald turns to the Chancellor, “You know a way out of Haven? I don’t want to leave the people here if we don’t have to.” Oh. Was that what the girl meant. She beams at the warrior, though no one else seems to notice.

Roderick seems confused at first, “There is a path… You wouldn’t know it was there unless you made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people can retreat.”

The warrior nods once, “Then they will need you to show them. Most of them are in the Chantry already. Get them out of here while we try to deal with this army.”

For once, the Chancellor doesn’t argue. It helps that these _Venatori_ start clambering over the barricades, having already made it past their first lines of defense. Cullen fully expects Lenora to go with him, but she swings her staff down from her shoulders and starts casting at the enemy. Worry gnaws at him- she’s only been learning for a few weeks!- but as the enemy engages he has to turn his mind to them and hope that she can take care of herself.

The fighting is arduous, but the Inquisition forces were prepared and manage to hold the forerunners of the army back. They just have to hold them long enough to have the bulk of the arm in the valley, where the trebuchets can do the work. Having the Templars is helpful against the rogue mages, but the Venatori dart in and out, culling soldiers faster than you can blink. For a time, the commander thinks of nothing but battle. Thrust, parry, shift, slash, parry, thrust. Over and over again.

A laugh and a spark of lightning distracts him, and he sees Lenora spring forward to lay a trap of fire beneath the feet of an oncoming group. Sweat trickles down her face, but she’s still casting, moving, twirling- never staying still long enough to become a target. Her voice hums an odd tune, and he catches a few words as she leaps back behind him again.

“ _Cole walks warily down the street,_

_With his brim pulled way down low._

_Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet,_

_Machine guns ready to go!”_

She laughs again, like it’s some inside joke, before sobering as another wave of enemies scramble over the ridge. He can still hear her humming, some rhythmic song. It is odd, but he sees that it’s helping her keep a rhythm in her casting.

_“Are you ready? Hey! Are you ready for this?_

_Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?_

_Out of the doorway the bullets rip,_

_To the sound of the beat yeah!”_

Despite what one would think, it actually become _less_ distracting as she goes, giving rhythm to herself and the soldiers around her. He still isn’t sure if anyone else can understand her, and once against tells himself he needs to find out. Between the singing and the casting of her spells, the song seems to take hold of the battle.

Blast-Blast-Blast!

“ _Another one bites the dust!”_

Thump-thump-blast!

_“Another one bites the dust!_

_And another one’s gone and another one’s gone._

_Another one bites the dust!”_

“Commander! We’re in place!” A scout shouts from the hilltop, carefully tucked behind a pile of crates so he doesn’t become a target for the enemy’s arrows.

“Fire!” His shout echoes across the battlefield and the response is almost immediate. Three trebuchets launch, three hits made, and an avalanche of snow and rock tumbles down their mountains and onto the advancing army. A cheer goes up, but before he can celebrate, someone yanks at his arm.

The young mage, eyes wide but determined, points to the gate, “Retreat! Dragon!”

He hesitates a moment too long, and the shout of alarm is followed by the unearthly screech of what can only be demonspaw on wings. The beast blasts through their defenses, taking out two of the war machines in a single blast. He won’t hesitate again. “Retreat! Fall back to the gates!” Cullen herds his men to the primary part of Haven, relieved that only the soldiers were out here. He waits only long enough for the Herald and the companions to come through before shutting it. They may have destroyed the bulk of the army, but with the defenses blasted away and a Maker-damned dragon against them, their remaining forces would have no chance at holding back the rest of the Venatori/Mage army. “We need everyone back to the Chantry! It’s the only building that will hold against that…Beast.” He sees Lenora waiting for the last of the soldiers to slip into the building, even as the enemy breach their walls. He’s grateful that they don’t have to worry about the safety of their people, but if they can’t stall the army, those people will be run down even as they flee. They need a distraction. They need something to delay them. He sees the last of his soldiers being ushered out the back passage by Lenora and Chancellor. Once they are gone, he turns to the Herald and what companions have remained to aid as they can. There is one option, and he fears what it will mean for them all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look! An update! I'm starting the long, annoying process of moving (luckily just up the road, not across country again), so updates will be a bit sporadic, especially once we disconnect internet here. I'll try to get a few more chapters ahead so that I can post semi-regularly, but I can't promise anything.  
> Hope you all enjoyed!  
> Fluff soon!


	5. Keep to the Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Chapter title is a little dedication to another MGiT fic by the same name as the chapter. Go read it! It is good. <3 )

Despite their forewarning, despite having prepared as best as they could, Cullen couldn’t help but feel drained. A failure, yet again. The Herald was lost. Haven was lost. They’d managed to save many, but so many soldiers had died in the process. Was this the end of the Inquisition? Had they come so far, only to have it all torn from them at the hands of a… a _creature_? There were so many questions, so many things they needed to know now. Who was the Elder One? What were the Venatori and why were they working with that monster? What _was_ that dragon-beast? Who was Calpernia? Why had the mages joined the Elder One? Why were Samson and the remaining Templars joined with them? And, as a personal quest, Cullen needed to know what Samson was doing, wandering around like his lyrium addiction hadn’t brought him to begging in Kirkwall. So many questions. No resources to seek the answers out.

They trudged through snow and ice, stopping only once to eat a little, warm up, and regroup. When the blizzard hit, they managed to find sanctuary in a little valley between imposing peaks. Camp was pulled together, but there was no enthusiasm, no hope. Everyone went about their tasks in a haze of disbelief.

The exception was Lenora.

The mage was seen darting about camp, helping healers get patients into tents, passing out rations, helping organize supplies, gathering dishes as people finished eating. Each time he saw her there was a look of confident determination on her face. Her eyes kept darting to the western pass that they’d come through, and a little crease of worry marred her brow. If he hadn’t been so bone weary, he might have tried to question her on it. As it was, he only made note of it.

Josephine was the one that finally brought up the desire to send out a search party for the Herald. She insisted that the warrior could be heading into camp now, and might need aid. Reluctantly, not wanting to raise anyone’s hopes, Cullen agreed and gathered a handful of soldiers. Cassandra insisted on coming as well and they set off, back the way they came, with little hope in finding their savior. Something stopped him for a moment, and his eyes searched the camp.

They don’t have to look hard, Lenora was already walking towards him, a heavy blanket draped across her arms. She passed it off to him with a small, reassuring smile and a nod towards the rest of the search party. Just like that, hope flared wildly and a well of energy he didn’t know he had left, burst forth. He barked orders to a few more soldiers, getting them to join the hunt, then forged ahead in the high snow drifts, ready to find their hero- alive.

*

It took the healers, both mages and non, nearly two days to bring the Herald of Andreste back to life. It was really touch and go for that first night. While the hope from the search had buoyed them, infighting was now pulling them back down. Great, they had their figurehead. Now what? Where would they go? Who would shelter them? Did anyone even have the supplies and space to do so? They did not have the power or clout needed to seek refuge in Orlais, and King Allister had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with their organization right then. So, where would they go?

When Mother Giselle began the song, Cullen huffed in annoyance. When Leliana joined, he sighed wearily. When the familiar voice of Lenora pitched in, he perked up. She brushed past him towards the healer’s tent where the Chantry Mother and the Herald stood, her face lit up in a knowing smile. This time, he could hear the words had a different touch to them- they were not in her language, but in the Trade Tongue.

“Keep to the stars

The Dawn will come.

The night is long-“

He found his eyes closing as the song washed over him, and the familiar words slipped from his own lips like a blessing.

“And the path is dark!

Look to the sky

For one day soon

The dawn will come.”

Every voice that joined only added to the power that was slowly building in the crowd. After so many deaths, so much pain, this was a cathartic bleeding of an infected wound. They had fled the horrors of Haven as a ragged band, but now were coming together as a people, a family, once again.

“Bare your blade

And raise it high

Stand your ground

The dawn will come.”

Cullen opened his eyes, feeling the sting of tears on his cold face, and soaked in the sight before him. Here, in this Maker forsaken mountain, they were more of a unified force, more of what the Inquisition was supposed to be, than they had yet been before. Heads bowed, tears fell, and as the song ended, the people rejoiced. Soldiers slapped his back and thanked him, people turned to each other in praise, grateful to be alive together. But the Commander had eyes only for one person.

Lenora stood to one side, watching the scene with a small smile, before turning to where the Herald stood. He followed her gaze, confused by the knowing smile, and watched as Solas led their leader off to the side.

Concerned, he started to follow after them when a small hand held his shoulder back, “No, Cullen. It is well.” His eyes returned to Lenora, smiling sweetly up at him, and he gave a small nod. She tugged at his cloak, turning him around easily and giving him a light shove towards his tent, “Sleep. Tomorrow, all leave.”

Obeying her order, he slipped into his tent, wondering softly that he trusted this small, strange creature, enough to simply sleep. He felt no urge to set up additional guards than they already had, no desire to pace the fires and worry about their future, no need to hound the other councilors for a plan. Instead, he felt only relief, and how much he’d pushed himself these last few days.

When his head hit the pillow and dreams claimed him, they were calm, ambiguous things, and in the distance, he could hear someone humming gently.

“And the path is dark.

Look to the sky,

For one day soon,

The Dawn will come…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god- a chapter? After all this time? "Always..." (sorry it's short!)  
> I live! Alright, so my DA fics sort of got stuffed away after my move and I lost all my mojo for writing them, and then I sort of got it back, but was WAAAAY busy. Now I'm still stupid busy, but determined to at least give you guys something from time to time so you know I'm alive and my works are not abandoned!  
> The next chapter is almost completely done, I just need sleep...
> 
> ALSO- if you haven't noticed already, I'm flying without a beta. I make an attempt to edit before posting, but my brain autocorrects while I'm reading, so that's not super helpful. I'm going through the previous chapters and editing the big stuff (like my tendency to change from past to present tense...), and will hopefully get those edits in during the next update! So, no need to point out mistakes in the comments- I see them! Just need to get around to fixing them...


	6. Deine Zauber binden wieder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Because I love you all, here's another chapter to make up for my long absence!)
> 
> Songs:  
> In the Hall of the Mountain King- Edvard Grieg, any version  
> Ode to Joy in D Minor with Choir - Beethoven, any version

He was speaking with Leliana in the Raven Loft when he heard the first notes of strange music. The first call of a horn catching his attention, thinking maybe it was some noble announcing themselves in the Great Hall. The low thrumming that followed immediately dashed that thought from his mind, and both he and the Spymaster went to the railing to look down the spiral. The music was ominous, and unlike anything he’s heard. There were hints of sounds he was familiar with from various instruments, but it was all played so strangely that his heart started hammering as the music built.

Below them, on the level just above the rotunda’s bottom floor, he could see Dorian and Lenora, leaning over the railing. Before them, floating just a short way out, was the younger mage’s music box, the little strings that make noise pulsing with magic. The sight did nothing to ease the oncoming feeling of dread that the music elicited. He could see both of them casting tiny spells, adjusting and amplifying as the notes began to rise in tempo and accompaniment. Below, doors opened and slammed shut, footsteps rushed, and people were gathering to the sound like moths to a musical flame. Each wore a different expression- from joy and wonder, to the same fear and trepidation Cullen felt coiling in his gut.

The volume continued to grow, though he could see that the mages are no longer adding to it, and the whole piece raced through his ears and heart, building until it reached a crescendo unlike anything he’s heard before- before coming to a sudden and abrupt end. There is silence, then applause and shouting. Dorian and the strange mage laughed and bow, bringing the floating toy back to them, where Lenora fiddled with it for a moment.

Varric’s voice came from the doorway of the rotunda and Great Hall, “Dorian! What in Thedas was that?”

Lenora leaned against the railing, “Music!” she shouted, her heavy accent sounding less pronounced than before. The dwarf rolls his eyes, but smiled good-naturedly.

The Tevinter laughed, craning his head over the railing again, “It is called ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King.’ Fascinating, isn’t it? If the Inquisition’s musicians could play something even half that, they will be the talk of the civilized world!”

Leliana’s snort startled the Commander- he’d forgotten she was beside him, “If our musicians could play that, I think Josephine’s job would be half finished.” Her eyes shifted to the young mage, who looks nervous now that the Nightingale’s attention was on her, “Do you have more?”

Lenora fidgeted, glancing to Dorian for reassurance. The Tevinter gives her a little nod and a ‘go on’ motion with his hand. Cullen could see her chew her lip from up here, before turning her head down to the music box, then holding it out for Dorian to magic back to the center of the room. It floated silently for a moment, and people shifted and murmured in anticipation, before the first notes shatter the silence, heralding the beginning of the song. Much to everyone’s surprise, the instruments were soon joined by the voice of their strange little mage, and more shocked than all of them is Cullen. Her voice was full and beautiful, if plain compared to the Chantry choir, but for once, he cannot understand the words.

“ _Freude, schöner Götterfunken,_

_Tochter aus Elysium,_

_Wir betreten feuertrunken,_

_Himmlische, dein Heiligtum!_

_Deine Zauber binden wieder_

_Was die Mode streng geteilt*;_

_Alle Menschen werden Brüder*_

_Wo dein sanfter Flügel weilt.”_

The song was uplifting, swelling and pulling the listeners in, even if no one understood what she was saying. The spiral of the room was filled with the music and her voice, and before long, Cullen- like the rest- no longer need to understand her to feel the passion in the music.

It seemed like the whole of the Inquisition paused- listening, feeling. Where the prayer sung by Mother Giselle gave them hope, this song gave them purpose. It filled them with a desire to follow and fulfill that purpose, through the Breach and back. It was, for one unifying moment, as if a spirit of Purpose and Action had touched each of them. Perhaps, if Cullen hadn’t already been so enthralled by the woman, he would have feared the effects the music had. As it was, he feared the magic she represented, but not the emotion her music elicited within himself.

When her voice and the music fade, there was no moment of stunned silence after, only a collective shout and cheer, laughter and talking echoing around them. Cullen smiled down at the mage. Her eyes found his, despite the shadows he stood in, and her shy smile in return lifted his heart more than even the music did.

As the people began to trickle out, once it was obvious that the mage would not be playing anymore music, Cullen reluctantly left the ledge to return to work with the spymaster. The redhead was watching the mage with sharp eyes, though, her hand under her chin as her mind schemed. Almost to herself, she spoke, “Perhaps she can be of use.”

Fearing what sort of use the woman might have for the strange mage, Cullen cleared his throat before questioning her in a mostly even voice, “And what use is that? True, she did well in Haven during the attack, but she stands out a bit much to be a spy.”

The Nightingale shook her head, “Not as a spy, Commander, but perhaps with the soldiers.”

“She is not made for true battle, lady.”

“No, but her music… She stirs something in people when she sings. If our marching soldiers had someone like her, or if she taught those morale officers who go with our men some of her songs… It might boost the army, particularly when the Inquisitor is not there to do so.”

The idea had merit, he could see that, but something in him rallied against the idea of sending her out into battle with the soldiers. After the disaster that had been Haven-

“Besides, since she seems to have some form of second sight, it would be prudent to have her where she can do the most good.”

He cast about for a reason, anything, to keep her out of battle, “Wouldn’t it be better, then, to have her here? Where her information can help you?”

Leliana shook her head slowly, “No… To turn the tide of battle, she should be at your hand. I’ll speak with the others about it. In the meantime, we should see that she gets better training. When the Inquisitor returns from the field, I was already thinking about bringing in specialty trainers. It shouldn’t be hard to add a few mage tutors to that. If she is going to be working with you, I suggest you see what other tutors and training she might need.” There was a tone of finality and dismissal to her, and since their previous business was also concluded, he gave her a short bow and took his leave.

Each step he took echoed in the stairwell, taking him down to where the two mages were sitting in Dorian’s little library. They were chatting softly in the little nook that the Tevinter mage had claimed, and while her speech was still incredibly rough and simplistic, it seemed that they were coming along well in their ability to communicate. Cullen wondered idly if it would have been better to place her with someone like Pavus early on, instead of the Chantry.

The older mage turned a little, catching sight of Cullen and pausing their conversation, “Ah! Commander. What brings you to our humble little library, today? Surely you don’t have time for light reading!” The younger snickered, and Cullen felt his cheeks coloring a little.

“No, unfortunately. I was sent here by Leliana to speak with Lady Lenora.”

She blanched and her eyes darted up towards the Nightingale’s loft. The action was not missed by either man, and Dorian shifted just a little so that he was standing in front of the young woman, “Oh? And just what does our illustrious spymaster need this little flower for?”

The action of both mages made Cullen pause, and wonder at what means Leliana had used to question the girl upon her arrival, “Nothing. Lenora is to receive additional training from specialists, and I was tasked with assessing what other tutoring she might need. It has come to our attention that perhaps the Inquisition is better served with her at a task above menial kitchen work.” He was rather impressed that managed to get through that little speech without stumbling, considering how intensely the girl was watching him and how the mage standing between them was practically thrumming with carefully controlled anger.

The Tevinter mage started to open his mouth, feathers clearly ruffled, but Lenora placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him, “Thank you, Cullen,” Her speech was still slow, but she was clearly becoming more comfortable with the Trade Tongue, “but I enjoy my work. I am not wishing to work with Leliana.”

Feeling a little smile tug at his lips, he tried to suppress it, “You would not be working with her, though. You would be working with me.”

That elicited the desired effect, and he watched her eyes go wide and her face flush, “Oh.” Well… that wasn’t the verbal response he had been hoping for. Perhaps he was misreading things and letting Cassandra’s gossip and Josie’s proddings color his observations inappropriately…

Pavus stepped in, taking the girl by her shoulders and steering her away and down the stairs while speaking rapidly, “What she means is that she will be delighted to work with you and I shall help her write a list of those topics which will require additional tutelage. Expect it on your desk by morning and have a pleasant day!” Lenora was struggling some, but laughing, and the pair swept out of the library before Cullen could say anything further. Shaking his head, he could not help the soft chuckle that escaped him.

Well, perhaps this would prove more interesting than he’d first feared.


	7. These Broken Wings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Beatles- Blackbird

He hadn’t been expecting it to be so bad tonight. Pain slithered down his spine while shivers wracked his body, and all he could do was sit in the corner of his office and grit his teeth, hoping it would be over soon. His body couldn’t heat itself, but under his heavy cloak the sweat still poured down his skin and soaked through his uniform. He’d barely managed to get his armor off after training the new recruits before collapsing here, shaking with cold and burning with lyrium fever. He couldn’t even keep his eyes open, though hot tears leaked out the sides.

There was no one to call out to for help, and he wasn’t sure anyone would know what to do in the first place. Cassandra was out with the Inquisitor, and no one else knew just how bad it had truly become.

He could be here for hours like this. Days even. Was he going to end up like Samson? Begging on the streets for one little taste or twisted and stolen from his purpose by the puppet string of addiction?

Cullen wondered, not for the first time, if it was time to give up. Pass the responsibility on to someone else, or just take the damn lyrium again…

He wasn’t fit to be Commander.

He wasn’t fit to lead anything.

Maker, it felt like he was being torn apart all over again…

When he heard the door creak open with no knock, he was too weak to stand and fake his health. All he could do was groan in frustration that someone was going to see him like this, and hope that he could later chalk it up to bad mead.

But when a cool cloth was pressed to his face his eyes snapped open. Through the haze of his fever, he made out a soft face, familiar and comforting.

It took a moment for his mind to catch up to the murmur of words Lenora spoke while she wiped the sweat from his brow. “Can you stand, Cullen?” Her words sounded strange, like the vowels were dragged out too long and the consonants were too short. She followed the words with her hands on his elbows, putting a little pressure on them to get him to understand.

“I- I think I can.” He tried to arrange his legs under him, but the muscles wouldn’t respond. A colt had better use of its newborn limbs than the Commander of the Inquisition did right now, and all he could do was swallow the sob of self-pity that threatened to escape him.

Lenora shushed him softly, pulling a basket that he hadn’t noticed closer to her, “It’s alright. We can stay here for now.” After rummaging in the basket for a moment and pulling some hazy objects out, she finally draped a thick blanket over his shoulders, “I know you don’t want to have magic done right now, but I need to keep you warm…” He flinched just as she waved her hand to spark a minor heating rune on the blanket, already hearing the screaming in his head getting louder. She continued to pull things out, though, muttering softly to herself, “I wish I had some of the modern medicine- I’m just not familiar with all this stuff. Hopefully, the Elfroot will work with the lotus. It should. Ugh, why you all don’t have pills and powders yet is beyond me…” Shaking a bottle of something she heated it with another rune and passed it to him. This time when she spoke, the words sounded almost normal, though her accent was still a bit heavy, “Drink. It helps.”

There was no energy left in him to argue. If she wanted to kill him, poison him, she’d have no argument on his end.  He drank, and gagged at the harsh taste of the lotus flowers, but felt the relief of the Elfroot almost immediately- the tiny tremors in his fingers stopped, and those secondary muscles that weren’t so heavily affected by the tension felt a little more relaxed. While it didn’t stop the pain of the withdrawal, it did make it a little easier to bear. A soft sigh escaped him, and he downed the rest of the concoction without complaint. Lenora watched him carefully, then nodded and offered him a small smile, “Better?”

The corner of his lip twitched, but his muscles were too tired to bring up even his signature half-smile, “A bit. Thank you.” He tried to push his legs under himself again, but couldn’t quite get his muscles to listen.

With a frown, Lenora leaned forward and grabbed his elbows again, pulling him up and taking his weight as he found his feet. Cullen hated it. Hated that she was helping, hated that he needed her help, hated having someone see him like this. But he didn’t have the strength or will to tell her to leave him.

Together, with the young mage doing most of the work, they managed to get him to the ladder and up the stairs to his room. He barely made it to his bed before his knees gave out and he collapsed, grateful for the darkness that masked the grimace of pain and embarrassment that seemed to freeze on his face. This entire thing was mortifying- but as soon as he saw her disappear down the ladder again, he couldn’t help the whimper of fear that escaped him.

The woman’s muffled voice came from below, “I’ll be right back! Grabbing my things.”

How pathetic was he? If the Void opened beneath him and swallowed him whole, he might actually thank the Maker for it right now. Even so, he was grateful when he heard her ascending the stairs again, this time with the large basket in her hand, and that wash of gratitude brought only more shame with it.

Lenora didn’t notice his shame, though, and merely set about with her tasks- a wave of her hand put a barrier over the hole in his roof, a bottle of something was set beside the empty hearth and another wave lit the damp logs inside the mostly unused fireplace. Bread and broth were pulled from the basket next, and he could smell them both as she set them near the fire to warm. Finally, another blanket was removed and she turned her attention to him, her manner thankfully clinical and straightforward instead of the pity he feared was fueling her. Once again, her words were normal- heavy accent and all, “You must change, Commander. Your clothes are too wet.”

Orders. Taking orders he could do. It was mindless, easy, like before everything happened when he was just some nobody in the Templars. Orders were easy.

She helped him sit up and helped him remove his boots and cloak, but when she went to help with his shirt he pushed her hands away, “I can do it. I am not completely incapable.” The sharp edge to his voice was not intended, but she stepped away and turned towards the fire never the less. Almost immediately he regretted denying her help, because it took him another ten minutes to struggle out of his shirt and trousers, and by the time he managed to do that, all he could do was drag himself under the covers- clothes be damned.

He watched her putter with the fire, adding another log and prodding the coals around to her liking. She hummed under her breath, a soft tune that washed back and forth like a quiet lake and seemed to offer a small shield between him and the memories that plagued his mind.

Exhaustion rolled through him and before he knew it, she was shaking him awake while a scream died in his throat- a nightmare! Vivid, real, with the claws of the demons ripping through his flesh and the tortured screams of his fellow Templars ringing in his ears! ...All in the moment it seemed to take for him to close his eyes.

Trembling and disoriented, he could barely sip the drink she gave him and didn’t even taste the lotus this time. Every creak of timber every groan of the wind made him jump. By the stars he could still see through his roof, it must have been very late in the evening now, and if his body wasn’t so completely drained, he would have simply pulled himself from the bed and began his work for the day.

As if reading his thoughts, Lenora sat down beside him, gently pushing him back down on the bed with a firm hand, “Sleep. You need sleep, Commander.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple and shaking his head, “And how am I supposed to do that when these beasts still nip at my heels? How am I supposed to do anything like this? I am not the Commander. I’m a failure.”

For a long time, he lay there, eyes closed, wallowing in self-hatred and listening to the silence of the castle around him. Softly, so he could just barely hear her, the mage sitting beside him began to sing.

“ _Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly._

_All your life,_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise_.”

At first, he’s annoyed, angry even, that she would think a silly little song would help. He couldn’t help the snarl that pulls at his lips, nor the inaudible growl that rumbled his chest. How dare this nobody, this _mage_ try to comfort _him_! The _Commander_ of the Inquisition’s army!

But as she continued, the tension that was building in him eased just as suddenly as it came, the anger turns to shameful ash, and he finds himself relaxing.

“ _Blackbird singing in the dead of night_

_Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_

_All your life_

_You were only waiting for this moment to be free_.”

No, it was unjust to be angry at Lenora. She came, uncalled, to aide him without pity or judgment. What vision must she have seen to pull her here so late and keep her by his side? No, he should not, would not, be angry at the gift of her time.

“ _Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

_Take these broken wings and learn to fly._

_All your life,_

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”_

He was grateful, so very grateful, that the Maker had sent Lenora to him- to all of them. Even if she never aided them in any way again, this night, her voice helping quell the demons and lull him back to sleep, was more than enough. He would spend his life showing her how grateful he was.

As he drifted to sleep, his mind finally realized why she’d sounded so strange when she was speaking earlier… It sounded the same as when she sang.

Her native tongue.

Another mystery.

Tomorrow.

_“You were only waiting for this moment to arise._

_You were only waiting for this moment to arise..._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter- gasp!  
> And non-sexual fluff tossed in with the angst.
> 
> Also, since there's probably only another 6 or so chapters to this, please remember that the tag "this does not end well" applies to this story. Trying to avoid hate mail by reiterating that!


	8. Found a Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semisonic- Closing Time

It’s not that he was avoiding her, it is just that he has conveniently had many other things to do since that night. Very busy. Long days and early nights and all that.

But in a place like Skyhold, despite its awe-inspiring size, there is only so long you can go on avoiding someone before they either catch on, or you just bump into them. Despite his best efforts, Cullen kept seeing Lenora all over the grounds- helping clear tables after a meal, working in the stables with the new horses, sparring with a few of the other mages, and, because Leliana had insisted, delivering regular updates to him on her visions and what moves they needed to make in the future. So, it wasn’t so much that Cullen could even avoid her in the first place as it was that he only managed to not turn into a flustered, stammering fool when they were discussing tactics and the next move for the Inquisition.

The other advisors, of course, found this absolutely gossip worthy and were starting to catch on to his feelings faster than he very likely was (because he would forever be in denial and that was that). Any chance they had, Lenora was sent to deliver this message or tell him about that tidbit of information or accompany him to this meeting. They delighted in seeing his discomfort and by the _Maker_ , he would find a way to get his revenge on those meddling women!

Right now, however much he wanted to enlist Sera’s assistance in his plotting, all he wanted was to slip down to the cavern in the quiet hours before they closed and drown a little in ale. It was a luxury he rarely allowed himself, but with the Inquisitor away and nothing to do but wait for each piece to fall in place, he had a little luxury of time.

So late in the evening, there were few patrons still in the bar- mostly soldiers or staff getting off their late shifts and winding down before bed. Here and there he could see a recruited companion- the Iron Bull in the corner chatting softly and seriously with one of his men, Varric writing a letter in the circle of the hearth fire while Cole whispered words of advice, and even Dorian, perched at the bar, pretending not to worry about anything at all.

The one person he thought he wouldn’t see, who usually turned in early if there was no further work, was Lenora.

If it hadn’t been for her voice so softly weaving through the whispered conversations he might not have noticed her. Tucked away in a table under the stairs and away from the handful of stragglers, she nursed an ale and a song.

“ _Closing time_

_Open all the doors and let you out into the world._

_Closing time_

_Turn the lights up over every boy and every girl._

_Closing time_

_One last call for alcohol so finish your whiskey or beer._

_Closing time_

_You don't have to go home but you can't stay here.”_

He stood awkwardly at the bar, staring at the marred surface of the wood counter, listening to her song as it hummed just above the rest of the tavern noise. No one else seemed to notice her or be paying attention to what she was singing, but he couldn’t seem to pull away from it.

“ _I know who I want to take me home!_

_I know who I want to take me home!_

_I know who I want to take me home!_

_Take me home…_

_Closing time_

_Time for you to go out to the places you will be from_

_Closing time_

_This room won't be open 'til your brothers or your sisters come_

_So gather up your jackets, move it to the exits_

_I hope you have found a friend”_

A voice from his left startled him, interrupting the magicless spell the song was weaving, “You know, you could actually go sit with her.”

Cullen turned, a denial on his lips, but Varric and the spirit-child Cole stared at him knowingly, “I- ah, don’t want to intrude on her.”

Cole closed his eyes, his voice coming out low and almost musical, “She longs for home, friends, family, and the touch of someone who would care for her. It twists inside of her until the music feels like the only thing left that feels the same. The lyrics are true, she made her choice before and strains to make it again- but does not feel it is her place.”

Cullen stared at the boy, unwinding the meaning carefully. The dwarf claps him on the back though, “Well, there you have it. Go chat it up with the local seer.”

There was a little shove on his back and the Commander found himself propelled towards her table. What Cole said slid through his mind over and over, and as he studied her during the slow trek across the tavern, he could see it as plain as anything. Loneliness. She was lonely, and he suddenly understood. Wherever she had come from, she was a long way from there or anything familiar now. Her new position as the Seer and advisor to the Inquisition command made her strange and terrifying to much of the mundane, and those that did not fear her were often far too busy to do more than say a brief ‘hello’ in passing.

To be this isolated… It wasn’t a foreign concept to him, but even so, at least he had some familiarity with the surroundings. Lenora did not.

“ _I know who I want to take me home!_

_I know who I want to take me home!_

_I know who I want to take me home!_

_Take me home…”_

 

“May I join you?” Cullen asked softly, unwilling to really interrupt, but more unwilling to simply assume he was welcome.

Lenora startled, looking up at him and only slowly seeming to realize who was speaking to her. “Oh!” she nodded and gestured to the other chair, and he smiled a little as he took it.

The silence stretched out between them, and he found himself rubbing the back of his neck nervously, searching for anything to say to make it less awkward, “Ah, so… Empress Celene sent a thank you to the Inquisitor- rather generous one at that- and there was something about the witch you mentioned joining us shortly-“

Her voice cut across his nervous rambling, “Cullen.”

“Yes?”

The knowing smile she gave him was enough to make his cheeks burst into flame, “No work tonight.”

“Right. Yes.” He offered an apologetic wave of his hand and turned his attention to his ale.

Instead of returning to silence, she rummaged through her ever-present satchel and pulled out the music box. She set it on the table with the strange little strings, waved a hand over it until it lit up with some soft, internal light, then fiddled with it until he could faintly hear music coming from it. Magic again amplified the sound, though this time she kept it soft, so that it didn’t leave their little table.

He couldn’t understand the words, but it didn’t take him long to realize that this was the same song she’d just been singing. She smiled as realization dawned on his face, and they both leaned back to drink their ale and enjoy the music.

He still preferred when she sang it, but at least he could hear the gentle accompaniment that went with it, and get a small taste of what her home was like.

Cullen decides that he won’t avoid her anymore. Starting tomorrow, he will do what he can to help hold the loneliness at bay.

It’s the least he can do.

And it is an excuse to, perhaps, spend a little more time with the singer…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? What is the world coming to?! This one is a bit short, but it's also sort of transitional? Next few chapters should get longer.  
> Assuming my muse continues, I might actually finish this whole story this week...


End file.
